


With All the Wishing in the World

by musiclily88



Series: Wasted Youth// There Wasn't Much to Waste [5]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Child Abuse, Drug Use, F/M, High School, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:25:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Now you just look like a blood-spattered martyr.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	With All the Wishing in the World

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT EVEN KNOW ANYMORE  
> PLEASE FORGIVE ME  
> xx

Louis drove to hospital behind Zayn, not bothering to keep an appropriate distance behind. He parked a distance from the door and waited until he saw Zayn head inside. He followed a short distance behind, entering the building and traipsing through the halls. He watched Zayn talk to a nurse and rush away towards an elevator.

Louis paused, glancing around. He realized his heart was beating a damn tattoo inside his chest and he felt faint. He hated hospitals. Yet another cliché.

He found a coffee machine and forced coins into it, knowing the acrid drink was going to taste disgusting. Pulling two cups out of the machine, he wandered toward the elevator that Zayn had disappeared into, pressing a button at random. As the door opened on the third floor, he heard Liam’s loud voice mingling with Zayn’s soft, rougher one and he stopped stepped out. Finding a chair, he sat in the corridor, finally stopping to wonder just what the fuck he was doing.

He fished a Xanax from his pocket and swallowed it down with a bitter sip of coffee. Then he waited.

He had always been terrible at waiting.

Louis finished most of his coffee, wishing he’d been able to find tea, before Zayn traipsed toward him. He looked wrung-out, but he still managed to glare at Louis. When he got closer, Louis realized he was practically vibrating with concealed rage.

Louis wordlessly handed him the second cup of coffee, fishing a second pill from his pocket. Holding it out, he said, “It’s just Xanax. Can’t have you storming off half-cocked to kill Liam’s dad. You’re too pretty for prison.”

“Oh.” Zayn accepted both with a shrug.

“How is he?”

“Stable but critical condition.”

Louis nodded, leaning forward to set his elbows on his knees. “Did he finally agree to call the cops?”

“He wouldn’t tell me.”

“That’s probably a no then.”

Zayn shrugged, taking a sip of the now lukewarm coffee. “Are you a sociopath?”

Louis snorted. “What makes you ask that?”

“You’re good at pushing buttons, like you said. So are you here just to piss me off? Waiting to see if I’ll punch you out? Guessing how I’ll react and feeling proud when you’re right?”

“No.”

“No, of course not,” Zayn breathed. “This is worse.”

Louis stayed silent.

“He asked after you. You might as well go see him. 325.” 

“Take the Xanax.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Zayn’s voice lacked heat, though he was still tense with untapped anger.

“Whatever.” Louis got to his feet and walked down the corridor. He stopped in the doorway of Liam’s room, suddenly breathless. He saw tubes and wires and weird monitors, with Liam lying back against the pillows, face battered. “What the fuck, Liam.”

“And here you thought I was just another pretty face.” He gestured toward his swollen eye with one hand, smiling through a split lip.

“Now you just look like a blood-spattered martyr.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Liam set his head back down against his pillow, grimacing.

Louis sat down on a chair across the room from Liam. “How are you feeling? All things considered.”

“Better now that I’m not coughing up blood.”

“He literally almost killed you and you haven’t talked to the police? Christ.”

“Who said I haven’t talked to the police?” Liam asked coldly.

“Your friends may hate me, but they still talk to me, all right? Zayn’s the only reason I knew you were here.”

“Why _are_ you here?”

“You’ve been gone for days. I figured there’d been a cock-up and you’d be too dumb to see yourself out of it. I had no idea it was this bad, though, yeah?”

“Cute.”

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Louis spat, crossing his arms.

“She was here this morning when they brought me in.”

“Oh.” Louis rubbed the back of his neck, considering. “What happened?”

“Broken rib punctured a lung. Re-injured my dislocated shoulder. Stiches along my hairline. Black eye. As you can see.” Liam waved at his face again.

“You almost died, didn’t you?”

Liam didn’t answer.

“Are you on some fun drugs, at least?”

“Not as fun as the ones you’re on, if Zayn’s stories are anything to go by.”

Louis’ lip curled. “He mentioned that?” Liam nodded. “Yeah, well. You fucked off, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, and can you see why?” Liam propped himself up on one arm, causing the machine to his left to beep erratically. “You think I didn’t see where this was going to end?”

“You know how to end this. Get the police in here and get him arrested for assault.”

“It’s not that fucking easy!” Liam clamped his mouth shut and shook his head vehemently, eyes bright.

“It can be!”

“You don’t know, okay? You don’t know.”

“What?”

“Not like it’s the first time I’ve been hospitalized. He walks away every time. I’ve stopped asking for help, yeah?”

“That’s not—”

“Don’t tell me that’s not fair, okay? I’m just riding it out for the rest of the year until university. Get a scholarship and get the fuck out. Once I’m gone I’ll never have to come back.”

Louis bit his lip, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t know what to say. Just like everyone else. I figured you of all people would realize how futile it is to try to save me. It’s impossible. It can’t be done.”

“Fucking hell, no one can save you but yourself.” Louis rolled his eyes.

“Exactly.”

“Yeah, exactly, and you’re not even trying.”

“I tried. And that’s what got me here.”

“Your circular logic isn’t impressive, all right. Just call the fucking police, enough is enough.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. The poor little rich kid routine you’re running? Yeah it doesn’t fucking compare to what’s going on in my life, okay? You have no idea what you’re trying to set yourself up against. So stop pretending that you care. Save your lectures and your ridiculous speeches. You’re not exactly a hero. I certainly don’t need you here for this, okay? Not if you’re going to play some fucking game.”

Louis felt as though he’d been punched in the sternum. Lacking for air, he merely gaped at Liam, whose body was shaking inside his starchy hospital gown. He stood up, dazed and half-blind.

Exiting the room, he nearly ran into Zayn, who was still nursing a cup of coffee. Even he looked shocked when he saw the face Louis was making. Knitting his brows together, he asked, “What? What happened?”

“I can’t.” Louis stumbled away from him and stalked down the corridor, trampled his way down two staircases, and found his way outside. He attempted to light a cigarette with trembling fingers but only managed to drop it on the ground. He unlocked his car and sat in the drivers’ seat for so long he lost track of time.

 

Louis had no idea where to do, but he started his car anyway, driving without caution or foresight. His car hugged curves as he ran them too fast, skidding through puddles and piles of road debris.

He couldn’t even feign surprise when he ran into a guardrail at one-hundred-seventy kilometres per hour.

***

Louis woke up groggy, eyes cloudy from a medication haze. The first person he saw was Charlotte, sitting beside his bed inspecting her fingernails with great curiosity. His mother sat across the expansive hospital room with Daisy in her lap, both looking strained.

“Afternoon, big bro,” Lottie whispered when she realized he was awake. “Gave us all a scare.”

“How long have I been out?” he asked, moving into a seated position with great difficulty.

“Not even an hour. They were worried you had a concussion apparently but it looks like it’s just some bruising and a broken ankle.” She flicked her fringe aside. “Lots of bruising, though. Apparently.” She ran her thumb over a dark smear along his forearm.

“Oh my boo, you’re awake!” his mother called, rushing over to his bedside. “I was so worried, we just—I didn’t know what happened, and we got that phone call. I just.” She fixed his hair and fussed at his blanket. “How are you feeling? Are you in pain? There’s a button here for calling the nurses. Your sisters and I were just—they’re buying crisps and chocolate from down the hall. They’ll be right back.”

He nodded mutely.

“The doctors left a little while ago, they said you’ll be fine. Eventually. You do need to, well. The doctors will talk about your medications, I suppose. And they’re going to cast your leg, now that you’re awake. Because of the ankle.” She paused. “But you don’t have a concussion.”

“Right.”

“Let me go find your sisters. Come on, Daze.” She held out her hand and they left the room quietly.

“Troublemaker,” Lottie finally said, voice quavering. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks.”

“You look like shit, by the way.”

“I was just in a car accident, Lottie. Cut me some slack.”

“Speaking of that, what the hell were you doing?” she snapped. “You fucking asshole. I don’t even—god I’m so. Ugh.” She let out an exasperated groan and dropped her forehead on top of the bedspread. “I’m so angry with you, you don’t even know.”

“I’m sorry.” He thought he meant it.

“You can’t just do that, okay. You have to be careful. I need you. _I need you.”_ Her words were muffed by the blanket.

“I’m sorry. I am.” Louis’ throat constricted.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” she responded, raising her head off the bed. “Okay? I’m—fresh air. I want fresh air. I’ll be back. Just—ugh.” She stood up and left the room in a rush.

Louis closed his eyes for many minutes, listening to the air conditioning recycle stale breeze into and out of his room. He sighed, gently tugging at the IV line a nurse had started in his hand when he was unconscious. He had trouble getting even remotely comfortable, every-so-often rustling against the hospital-grade mattress.

Then he heard someone’s throat clear with a jagged cough. “You fucking drama queen.”

“No one else was hurt, Zayn,” he said without opening is eyes.

“What?”

He sighed, turning his head sideways to look at Zayn standing in the doorway. “I made sure no one else was hurt.”

“You did this on fucking purpose? You’re such a goddamn idiot.”

“I didn’t say that.” Louis pressed at the large bruise on his forearm. “What are you still doing here?”

“Every time I get kicked out of Liam’s room I go sneak a smoke up on the roof and then just come back down. I was headed up there when I saw a familiar name.” He pointed to the label on the front of the door, which said _Louis T_ on it.

“Cute. Looking after your boyfriend and sneaking a smoke on the roof. It’s so domestic.”

“Hey, at least I didn’t jump when I was up there, right?”

“Christ, I didn’t do it on purpose, all right?”

“You drive a fucking Mercedes. It’s not like you _easily_ lose control going round a curve in a car like that.”

“Fuck off.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Zayn asked, crossing the room to yank Louis’ chart off the end of his bed. “Broken ankle? How prosaic. Not even a concussion?”

“Nope,” Louis responded, smug. “Now get the fuck out of here before I call security.”

“Really? You won’t get one of your employees to do it for you?”

Lottie entered the room, looking a great deal calmer than when she had left it. She narrowed her eyes at Zayn and gave Louis an admonishing look. 

“Really, Louis? Another one? Rein it in. Save some sexual prowess for the rest of the continent.” She plopped down on the chair beside Louis’ bed. She shot Zayn a look that terrified even Louis. “And? Can I help you with something? Directions to the nearest opium den, maybe?”

“What the fuck.” Zayn stared at her, open-mouthed.

“This is my sister. Otherwise known as my favorite person in the entire world.”

“I think they do STI screenings down on the ground floor, mate, you look like you could use one.” She crossed her arms.

“You can leave of your own accord or I can watch her verbally abuse you for another hour, but I’d really like for you to leave if it’s up to me.”

“Whatever. I honestly was just going to tell you not to send Liam into another rage-fit, but since it doesn’t look like you can even walk to his room, I’ll leave it be.” He shook his head and muttered, “Fucking failure.”

“You realize I can have you killed and tossed into a quarry, right?” Louis asked lightly, tossing Zayn an amused glance.

“Oh, yeah! I’d almost forgotten about Vinny the Shiv. How is he lately, anyway?” Lottie turned to him with an animated face.

“Vacationing in St. Barts this year, I think? Not sure,” Louis said, eyes still pinned on Zayn.

“Fine. Whatever. It’s probably good you’re not dead, because it would have made Liam upset. So, like. Try not to fall down some stairs.”

“Unless it’s onto your dick, right?” Lottie tipped her head to the side. “God, you’re thirsty for it, aren’t you?” she added with a small, angry smile.

“How _old_ are you?” Zayn asked.

“Old enough to know better and to stare at your arse when you walk away. Bye now.” She waved sweetly. “Bye.”

Zayn blinked rapidly and spun on one heel to exit the room.

“Hi, Mrs. Tomlinson. Bye, everyone,” he added, nearly running into Louis’ mum and two of his sisters as they walked toward the doorway.

“Bye!” she said, waving. Turning to Louis she asked, “Who was that? Have I met him?”

“No, just a classmate. We’re in literature together.”

“Oh, good of him to visit. I rounded up your sisters.” She moved to sit on the foot of Louis’ bed. “Felicite’s bringing you tea. Eventually. I think she got distracted.”

“By what?”

“The woman pregnant with octuplets!” Phoebe cried, jumping up and down. “She was huge, like she swallowed a lorry!”

“Two lorries,” Daisy corrected.

“Two lorries,” Phoebe agreed.

“Right,” their mum added, nodding decisively. “I’m going to go locate your doctor. Fizzie will be here in a minute. Come on, girls.”

They left the room again, leaving Lottie with Louis. “Does she ever sit still?” Louis asked, tipping his head back against the stiff pillowcase.

“You know as well as I do that she doesn’t stop moving when she’s panicked. She’s been up and down every four minutes for the past two hours.” Lottie bit her lip and looked at Louis out of the corner of one eye. “Who was that?”

“The guy who’s in love with Liam.”

She threw her head back and cackled loudly before leaning forward to catch her breath. “Oh god. You really are on drugs if you think sleeping with him is a good idea.”

“It was one time!”

“Yeah, okay. Your doctor’s at the other end of the hall, by the way. Mum went the wrong direction. I’ll just—go grab everyone.” 

She shuffled out of the room and left Louis in silence. He wiggled his toes experimentally, wincing at the twinge in his ankle.

He remained mostly quiet as a doctor and technician wrapped his leg in hardening gauze, shutting his leg into an off-white-colored cast. Then the doctor ran through a list of prescribed medication and their doses and possible side effects and warnings about not mixing drugs. The doctor then discussed what he should expect over the next three weeks, told him to watch out for blood clots and not to get too much bedrest.

The tech taught him how to use his crutches and said the hospital intended to keep him overnight to keep watch for possible fallout from hitting his head on the steering wheel of his car. His mum and sisters cleared out long after visiting hours were through—his mother giving her pointed I’m-rich-and-will-do-as-I-please glare—but they eventually left for the night, Louis breathing easier once they did. 

Louis wondered if his mother loved him or if she stuck around merely out of obligation. He banished the thought as soon as he realized he had no way to answer himself. His stepfather never visited. His obligations clearly did not extend quite that far.

He examined his cast in a cursory fashion before grabbing his crutches from his bedside. Limping down the darkened corridor, he swung into room Liam’s room, knowing this venture was inevitable.

Peering inside the half-cracked door, he considered whether or not to enter. Zayn’s words still rattled around in his head, and though he cared very little for their veracity, he still took them under advisement. A bit.

He shoved the door open and toed his way inside, arms aching a bit from the use of the crutches. “Liam!” he called in a stage whisper, trying to edge the door shut behind him. “Liam!”

“What do you want, Lou,” Liam asked sleepily, shifting to his side with a sharp intake of breath.

“Well. That’s a very long laundry-list actually,” Louis replied with a small leer, even though he knew Liam couldn’t see his face. “But. Dunno. How are you?”

“I’m all right. Mostly groggy, yeah?”

“Still alive though.”

“Obviously. Your mental decline’s kicked in early, then?” Liam yawned a bit, kicking at the blanket. “You’re not even in your twenties.”

“Shut up.” Louis crossed the room slowly, standing at Liam’s bedside, fiddling with the hem of his jumper. “Have you—how are you now that you’ve calmed down?”

“Fine. My wounds are knitting together nicely.” He heard Liam smile into the words, knowing he was on high levels of medication. Liam looked a bit loopy, smiled lazily up at him through the dim light before frowning again. Louis refused to care. He sat by the foot of Liam’s bed, shoving his crutches to one side. “Why did you try to kill yourself?” Liam whispered, blinking slowly.

“What? I didn’t—that’s not what happened. I didn’t try to kill myself.” Louis scrubbed his face with one hand. “I got in a car crash because I drive like a moron. Which you’ve already pointed out.”

“Because you take pills and they make you feel pretty.” Liam pressed his lips together in a drugged-up smile.

“I already am pretty.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. But you do drugs anyway, because you’re sad.” He reached a hand out toward Louis, waggling his fingers lazily. “So pretty and sad.”

“How are you feeling, Liam?”

“Shiny.” Liam pitched sideways and rested his cheek against the pillow.

“Have you been watching terrible science fiction again, you arse?”

“Shut up, tight-pants.”

“Are you sleepy, Liam?” Louis asked in patronizing tones, patting Liam’s cheek.

“Sort of. Kind of bubbling, too, like.”

“Are you on morphine? Did they give you the good shit, then?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t check. Ask Niall. Or Zayn. My mum was here for a bit, I think, but that might have been a fever dream.”

“You had a fever?”

“No, like, a drug dream. A morphine dream.”

“For the ribs.”

“I don’t know what they gave me, okay,” Liam snapped, emerging from his haze for a moment before returning to a vague softness.

“Sorry, mate.”

“You don’t know how to be sorry.” He shook his head, a resolute surfacing on his face.

“You don’t know that,” Louis said slowly. “Maybe I do.”

“Come back tomorrow. We’ll see.”

“Can’t I just stay here?”

“You’re not sharing my bed, you spoiled prick.”

_“Fine.”_

“Just come back tomorrow. If you remember.” Liam’s head sagged sideways and he shrugged his shoulders, moving the blanket up his body. Louis rolled his eyes and glanced around the room until he found a biro clipped to Liam’s chart. He grabbed it and slid Liam’s arm out from underneath his duvet, writing _I’m in 348, you knob -LT._

***  
Louis awoke to someone slapping his face. Though he was not entirely unused to this gesture, it nonetheless surprised him given the context. “Stop it or I’ll fire you.”

“You can’t fire me.”

“Liam?” Louis opened his eyes to see Liam by his bed, tucked against the side in a hospital-lent wheelchair. “What the hell?”

“Why did you deface my arm?” Liam held his forearm aloft, eyebrows quirked.

“Technically I de-armed your arm,” Louis pointed out, moving to a seated position.

“That’s absolutely not a thing.” Liam shook his head, face gone serious and solemn.

“I think it’s a thing.”

“This is why you’re failing half your courses.”

“Am not. Blowing my tutors, aren’t I?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop blowing my tutors? Can’t mate, or I wouldn’t graduate, would I?”

“But.” Liam paused, biting his lip. “Stop it.”

“You’re an idiot.” Louis struggled to extricate his neck from the tight confines of his hospital gown, but eventually managed. “What are you even doing here?”

“You wrote your room number on my arm, you twat.”

“You’re very mean to me, you know. I’m in hospital and everything.” Louis smiled sweetly at him.

“Copycat.”

Louis frowned. “Zayn called me a drama queen and you’re calling me a copycat. Everyone’s against me.”

“You’re smart enough not to knock yourself here, you jackarse.”

“I’ll let you give me driving lessons if you call the police on your piece-of-shit father.”

“Yeah? And what about yours?”

“Which one?” Louis countered, forcing himself forward onto his forearms. “The one who left when I was a baby or the one who pays for my school but ignores everything I do?”

“Pick one.”

“He hasn’t done anything for me to call the cops on him for,” Louis said, sighing an throwing an arm over his eyes. “Unlike yours.”

“So that gives you the moral high ground then?”

“No. It just means I’m the one who gets to shove the phone into your hand.”

“Whatever.”

“Actually, Zayn would likely prefer it were him showing you the light.”

“I’m done talking about the police.” Liam shrugged. “I told you both.”

“Do you want to make a deal?”

“Probably not.”

“Hear me out.”

“Keep in mind I’m ready to punch you in the cock, yeah.” He gestured to Louis’ unprotected groin with his left hand.

“I’ll stop fucking Zayn if you call the cops on your dad.”

Liam tucked his chin in, eyes wide. He looked genuinely shocked for a moment, but then he burst into barking laughter. “No way.”

_“What?_ Really?” 

“Obviously. You’re both insane and I refuse to get in the middle of things. Stop if you want to stop, but don’t pretend it’s about me.”

“It is about you, though. It’s all about you.” He knew he had revealed a great deal too much with that statement but it was too late to retract it. He let it lie.

Liam slowed, clenching his jaw. He searched Louis’ face, eyes solemn. “And that’s why you’re fucking your tutors? All about me? And your staff? All about me?”

Louis pinched in his lips, trying to catch his breath. “No. Those weren’t about you.”

“Right. The guys before? At your old schools?”

“What about them, Liam,” Louis responded in tones utterly flat, turning away from him to look out the window.

“Did you—even remotely like them? Or love at least one of them?” His voice was small but it rang clear.

“I liked them fine, but. No. Not a one.” Louis clenched his fists, knowing this was the point they have avoided discussing for weeks. “I’ve never loved anyone.”

“I think you’re a liar.”

Louis snorted. “You can twist it however you like, but I just. I just don’t know how to love people. Not in the way you mean.”

“Liar.”

“No one ever taught me, okay? Like I know you’re a good person, and that’s great, but I’m not. I just don’t—”

“Please shut up.”

“Don’t, all right? You don’t get to act self-righteous if I don’t. You don’t get to make speeches if I don’t.” Louis set his jaw, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets as though he could make himself go blind. “So either get used to it or walk away.”

“You don’t get to make ultimatums _ever,_ all right? I’m not okay with that because that’s not okay. I don’t owe you anything.”

“Come on, Liam.” Louis felt his nose running, realized he was a lost cause, pretended his medications were to blame. But he knew Liam was pretty as a GQ model, pretty as a Gucci boy—even with a bruised, swollen eye—and it actively pissed him off.

Until he tuned in to what Liam was saying.

“I already called the police, you fucker. Before you or Zayn got here. Before my mum or even Danielle showed up, okay? They already took my statement and I don’t need anyone’s promises. So fuck off.”

“No.”

“Yeah, you need to fuck off now. Because you have no idea what’s happened to me over the years. I’ve known you for such a short time it’s laughable. You don’t get to set my limits for me or make my choices for me. So fuck off.”

“No, I just.” Louis paused, trying to decide whether or not to roll his eyes. “I mean. You’re in my room. So I can’t quite. I can’t fuck off.”

Liam snorted. “Really? That’s all you’re going to say.”

“What is it that you want from me, exactly?” Louis snapped, arching forward in his bed. “What? Just lay it all on the line. I feel like I’m constantly failing to meet your unvoiced demands and it’s getting really tiresome.”

“I want you to figure out what the hell you want and stop dicking people around.”

“I’ve never been anything but straightforward with you!”

Liam shook his head. “You think that but I’m pretty sure you’re fooling yourself. So outside of pretending to be this idiotic bad-seed sexaholic borderline alky, sort out your shit.” Here he paused as though considering his words carefully. “And stop trying to save me. It’s actually really annoying.”

“Thanks for the come-to-Jesus talk, I guess.”

“Call it whatever you want, but if it keeps you from crashing another legitimately beautiful sports car, it will be an effort well-spent.”

They sat in a tentative silence for a few seconds until Louis said, “I do _like_ you, you know. Spending time with you or whatever.” He shrugged. “That’s about as emotional as I know how to get. K?”

Liam gave him a slow nod. “I guess I’ve just got to figure out if that’s, like. If that’s enough for me.”

“Yeah. Um. If it means anything, I’m glad you called the cops.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Liam replied, eyes going dark.

“No I know,” he said quickly. “That’s just about the only thing that’s clear from the shouting matches we’ve been having. But you’re the one with the girlfriend, and you’re the one who called me a conquest. You’re the one who broke things off. So I’m confused about why you think I’m playing you.”

“That was—most of that was just to protect myself, I guess. Not that it worked.”

“Time out. Question. You’re actually being honest with me for once, yeah? Rather than coy and defensive?”

“Yeah, I’m. Yeah.”

“Good, because I know you think I’m the only one in the wrong here, but—”

“You fucked my best mate.”

“We were never officially an anything! So excuse me for chasing a good lay, Christ.” Louis rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, I’m still not getting in the middle of you two, because I would get brutally murdered.”

Louis pursed his lips. “Make that reference only once you’re healed, yeah? Your face is freaking me out right now.” He waved in Liam’s general direction.

“My life’s not fair. You turned your car into a warped piece of burnt metal and got out with just one broken bone. I look like I got mangled in a bullfight.”

“Nah, you can pull off this look. The black eye makes you look rugged. Masculine.”

Liam shrugged, looking lopsided in his sling. “Whatever. Hey, so.” He fell silent. Louis waited, letting his head drop back to the pillow. “Did you try to kill yourself?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Because I want to know.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Boundless curiosity. Why do you think?” Liam stared at him, but he stayed silent. “Because I care, you absolute twat. It’s a simple question. Just answer it.”

And Louis supposed maybe he had finally had enough.

“It’s not simple, though! Because I didn’t do it on purpose, but it wasn’t exactly an accident, okay? I just didn’t care what would happen. I just didn’t care at all. I didn’t _try_ to crash into a guardrail, but it was at least doing something! Something stupid and reckless, fine, but something. Better than monotony, all right, and better than you looking at me with your fucking huge brown eyes like I actually matter. You can’t just _do that_ and pretend it’s okay. _It’s not okay._ I’m not okay.”

Liam blinked and swallowed, his Adam’s apple causing the only movement in the room. Then he bit his lip and his bros furrowed. 

“Shit. We are so totally fucked.”

Louis snorted, nodding. “Very.” He was glad merely that his eyes weren’t watering.

“Like super fucked.”

“Like, going-in-dry and without-a-reacharound fucked.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Be nice to me, I’m hospitalized.”

“I thought you got a complex if someone acted nice to you.”

“You’re exhausting.” Louis pulled the blankets up around himself and frowned like he had seen Daisy and Phoebe do many times before, looking pouty. “I need my beauty rest. Begone with you.”

“Good luck with that, you spoiled little bitch.”


End file.
